Thor
by Screamers
Summary: In Chapter Two, Professor Donald Blake gets his chance to finally see the mysterious artifact that has now placed three of Fury's men into comas and has a mysterious dream as a result. An Alternate Universe retelling of the origin of Thor.
1. Chapter 1

Thor

Norway, Lofoten Island, December 4th 2033AD - 14:43

A fresh white plume of smoke drifted from his lips and merged with the mist of his warm breath as his cigar cast a soft glow over the map laid out upon the table before him. A budget of 237 billions dollars a year and this run down, dimly lit shack was all S.H.E.I.L.D could put together on short notice? Fury cursed under his breath and another puff of smoke rose into the frigid air and his thick gloves hugged his arms. Even with his survival suit beneath his heavy black snow suit this weather was torturous, a kind of chill that cut straight to the bone and froze your nerves. He turned as he heard a young corporal laugh. "Too cold for you, sir?" The youth laughed, sitting upon a stack of crates, his gun lazily slung over his shoulder as his parka was zipped up to his chin. A fresh faced young man just transferred in from the Army.  
Fury scowled as he rose a hand to remove his cigar from his teeth. "Watch your mouth boy, or you'll be digging yourself a grave for warmth out there in the cold come night fall." Others laughed to see their leader willing to joke during such dire times.  
"Watch yourself Nelson, that dog may be old but it can still bite with the best of them," Natasha Romanoff smiled from beneath her snowy white coat as she nestled in between an ammo crate and a sergeant. Her hood pulled up about her face, only a few bare wisps of red fell over her forehead. "General, shall we get on with the briefing?"  
Fury gave a soft nod as his ominous shadow danced upon the map as the old wire light swung in the icy breeze pushing through the cracks in the walls and door of the dilapidated shack. Taking a pen from his coat, he pressed it's tip to a small black dot atop a hill. A soft hum filled the room as a three dimensional image rose from the map, Fury's men came closer to encircle the image.  
"Their main defenses are focused to the southern shores so Team A and I will make our entrance to the west, Natasha, you and team B will enter exactly five minutes later from the north. By then I expect to have complete control of the air to ground tower and the communication hut, understand?" Fury gently trailed his pen along the lines of attacks he dictated, leaving soft beaded trails in its wake leading from their small shack to the large military base to the south.  
A crisp, 'sir yes sir' was delivered by each aside from Natasha who simply gave a nod, her hands rose and she slipped her hood down. A black survival suit just barely visible as its collar hugged her neck, it's synthetic fibers designed to retain as much heat as possible in such harsh conditions. Much like Fury's own suit worn beneath his coat it kept perfect watch over her vital signs, core temperature, and pulse. If anything were to happen to Natasha, her suit and S.H.E.I.L.D medical personnel would know well before she herself did.  
"What do the projections show, General?" She spoke with a soft eloquence and fluidity, a voice of honey, both feminine and strongly sensed that often made Fury subconsciously weary of allowing her to be the only woman in a strike force of 22 men.  
"Resistance will be heavy after the first three minutes or so. These men are running low on supplies and have likely not eaten or slept much in days awaiting more supplies from home. Computer analysis project few causalities on our side. I expect zero. It also projects a full take over of the air strip in twenty minutes time, I want it under S.H.E.I.L.D control in fifteen, understand?" Fury lifted his pen and the projection faded from the map, leaving only the trails drawn upon the hologram embedded into the map.  
"Yes Sir," Each man said in turn as Fury slipped his pen back into his pocket and knocked the ash from his cigar upon the edge of the table. "Good, be ready to move out at 1700. Remember it check your lights, sun down is at 15:12, try not to miss it, it will be the last time we see the sun for a good while,"

So much had changed, Fury sighed as the briefing ended and the men began to depart and return to their business. Pulling his hood up and stepping outside into the snow, wind nearly whipped the door from his hand and the wind bit into his face harshly. He grimaced as he looked over the once magnificent view. This war had done so much to the world, but never had he thought it would go this far… never before had anyone imagined the effects it would have upon the earth itself. As far as the eye could see snow blanketed the earth, beyond that lay miles of frozen of freezing ocean. The once beautiful mild Lofoten islands now a snowy wasteland, near uninhabitable by those without the advantage of military class electronics and supplies. A desolate archipelago, perfect for what it had now become, a supply station and drop of point for enemies of the Allied Nations… or what was left of it at least.  
The wind, so biting and fierce, he didn't even hear the footsteps approaching from behind nor feel the hand upon his shoulder. It wasn't till he heard her voice beside her ear that he turned his head to acknowledge her. He lowered his head slightly, buried nose deep into the collar of his coat. "Need something, Romanoff?"  
"Nick…" She sighed softly, those sharp eagle eyes softening at his words.  
"Natasha…" She could sense him rolling his eyes and he knew it, he couldn't help but crack a smile.  
"Are you alright Nick?"  
"Fine, why do you ask?" He turned his attention back out to the snowy canvas stretched out before him, on his left side he couldn't see her at all, only a soft fuzzy image in the peripheral of his right eye. It wasn't till now that he realized his cigar had been not only put out my the wind but it's frayed burnt tip frozen to frailty. He tossed it upon the ground and kicked it into the snow.  
"You're not the type to go off and stare off into space like this," She slipped her gloved hands into the sleeves of her coat as she crossed her arms before her chest.  
"Look around you Natasha… tell me. Is this Lofoten? This war has done so much to humanity, but the earth as well. How long till this is Los Angeles?" His cleared his throat as he lowered his hand and kicked the tip of his boot into the ground. "Even if we stop this, end this war, how can we ever repair the damage this war has done?"  
Natasha smiled softly. "Since when did Nicolas Fury become an environmentalist?"  
"Since 90 degrees become a hot summer day in New York," She could tell by his tone there was little chance of cheering him up at this point, not when discussing a situation like this. In all honesty she wasn't even sure how to respond. How could humanity ever repair the damage they had done to the Earth?  
"I don't know Nick. But the world has faced an ice age before and overcame it, I'm sure it can again,"  
"Yeah, but that ice age was one of it's own creation. This one, this was forced upon it,"  
There they stood in an awkward silence, uncomfortable and unsure of what to say, do or even look at. Maybe it was best to simply do as they had before and look away from the big picture, only focusing on the problem at hand. The airbase was to be number one priority and would remain so. But now the looming knowledge of the ruin they had done to their home was beginning to finally set in for the two warriors.  
Natasha's cheeks reddened from the beating wind upon her face and she felt her nostrils begin to freeze, with a girlish huff, her arm rose to rub to cold from her sinuses . She pulled her collar up about her face once more and allowed her gaze to rise up to the darkening sky, she slipped her hands into her pockets and she felt the chill rise through her bones.  
The temperature had fallen and rapidly too, as the sun slow fell against the horizon causing a momentary blinding flash against the snow before darkness began to set and the numbers on the thermostat before the cabin's door continued to fall. Night had begun, Lofoten would not see the sun again for 33 days, and by the time it rose again, Fury, his men, and the airbase to the south would all be gone. As long as all went to plan.

Norway, Lofoten Island, December 4th 2033AD - 18:13

If there ever was such a thing as flawless, then it was the men and woman standing before Fury at this moment. Each one had fought as hard and masterly as Fury had expected of each of them. Only when a blade-charge had failed to go off and clear a path for their trucks had Fury not been pleased with his men and their tactics. Sixteen minutes, for the moment a forgivable sixty seconds over Fury's set goal, was all that his men needed to bring the base into S.H.E.I.L.D control. Twenty-two men, one woman fought that evening against one hundred and seven strong and won, only seventeen had met their ends that evening. All overzealous enemies, blinded from reason and sanity by rage and brainwashing patriotism. After collecting the needed information on their new prisoners of war, compiling detailed reports of the attack recounting every bullet fired, every door broken, ever word spoken during their maneuvers to S.H.E.I.L.D Headquarters nearly 3700 miles away they were allowed to rest.  
Setting her rifle down upon the ground, propped against a wall Natasha sighed heavily as she took a seat upon a steel framed chair set against the wall of the communications room of the air tower. The small room, east and north walls lined with radios and computer consoles. Fury sat before the tower control, his feet upon the keyboard as he blew smoke into the air before knocking the ash from his cigar. The victory smoke, there was none better. Natasha unzipped the collar of his survival suit and shed her coat onto the back of the chair, for the first time since they arrived in Norway, it was warm.  
"We have three days, our pickup will be here at 0900 Wednesday morning. Let the men know," Closing his eyes Fury felt himself nearly drift off into sleep. The warmth was so incredibly comforting after suffering the wind for so long, yet he forced himself to snap his eyes open and sit up which brought a soft laugh from Natasha in the corner. He couldn't help but return a gentle smile before rubbing his forehead and snuffing out his cigar.  
"Nick…"  
"Yeah?"  
"I was thinking. When we get home, back to New York. We need to contact Reed, he may have an idea on how to reverse what we have done,"  
"Or he'll make things worse,"  
Natasha smiled.  
The door suddenly opened as the young fresh face from the Army stepped inside, nearly hitting Natasha with the door, his chest heaving as he caught his breathe. "Fury, sir!"  
Natasha and Fury were both on their feet quickly at the appearance of the boy. "What is it son?"  
"Sir, we found something. It's interesting to say the least…"  
Sharing a glance to once another before giving a nod to the boy Natasha pulled her coat back on and Fury cursed under his breath as he realized that instead of sleeping away his fatigue he would simply have to endure as they ventured out into the snow once more.  
"Out of the way!" Fury barked as he pushed his men aside to advance as they gathers around a deep trench in the middle of the compound. He had noticed several wooden markers set around the trench as they entered, each once with the same set of chicken scratch lettering on them. He had thought nothing of it till now, but as he approached it seemed like this had been more then just an airstrip but an excavation site as well. "What is going on here?"  
"We aren't sure sir, we threw the dud blade-charge into here and turns out it wasn't a dud after all just faulty," A tall rough looking young man said as he dropped down into the chest deep trench. He approached the smoldering stones against the trench floor with caution. "It uncovered something,"  
"Watch yourself Hughes," Fury warned as he dropped down into the trench after him. He picked up a forgotten shovel and threw it out of the trench to be retrieved and stored away by the others who encircled and watched with interest.  
"It looks like a box or something," Hughes dropped to his knees and began pulled cold, dry earth away from the find. As more was revealed it appeared to be a block of stone or coarse metal buried beneath the soil, a soft reflection causing it to glint against the light of the surrounding flashlights.  
Natasha stood by and crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head softly. This didn't seem right, it had to be some kind of a trap, a weapon, something. It was far too much of a coincidence to simply find a curiosity sitting in the middle of an enemy establishment "General, Corporal, be careful, this is too suspicious,"  
"I don't think it's a weapon, it looks like stone… very old. What the hell would they be doing running an excavation here?" Fury peered over the Corporal's shoulder as he watched it come into sight. "Hughes, carefully now, see if you can free it,"  
"Yes sir," Hughes brushed his hands off on his pants before scooping away another chuck of earth and placing his hand upon the stone.  
Electricity crackled through the air and the smell of ozone filled the air as Hughes screamed, his eyes wide with fear and pain as his muscles tensed and bulged. The sky above crackled and boomed with the sound of thunder and a gust of wind as a warning to the warriors of a coming storm, but there was a more pressing issue at hand. The sky split was a crack of lighting as steam began to pour from Hughes' flesh.  
"Nick, help him!" Natasha screamed as she hopped down into the trench and dashed to Fury's side. Fury clenched his teeth as he gripped Hughes tightly around the arm and began to pull with all his might. The screams were terrible, unbearable. What was happening, what could cause a man to suffer through so much pain just from the touch of a stone. Was this even a stone? So many questions yet no time to search for an answer. All that mattered now was the man who was screaming bloody murder in Fury's ear.  
"Get in here and help me, damn it! Can't you see he's dying?!" Fury yelled to the panic stricken men and at his words they began piling in behind him, each of cautious to avoid the stone as they surrounded Hughes and with Fury's lead struggled to pry the man free from the stones grip. The horrifying sound of skin tearing brought shivers down the spines of every man to hear it as Hughes came free and landed upon a pile of terrified allies. Each one shaking with fear for what they had just seen and what Hughes himself had just experienced.  
Thankfully for Hughes he didn't stay awake long enough to hear the yelling and see the scrambling of his comrades as they rushed to pull him free from the trench and retrieve the Field First Aid kits from the hanger being used as both prison and barracks. His palm a bloody mess, torn and burnt from an unseen flame, Fury feared the worst. How could the nerves and ligaments ever survive or recover from damage so extreme? Yet for Natasha only one question continually come to mind, what could do such a thing?  
"Natasha,"  
She did not hear Fury's words, her mind too focused on the disaster and gore before her. Too paralyzed with fear and chilling curiosity to move or react. It wasn't till she felt his firm grip upon her shoulder that she awoke from her fear and peered up into his eyes.  
"Natasha!"  
"Yes, Nick?"  
"Contact HQ, tell them we need a team up here now damn it! A medic and an excavation team, asap! I want that thing out of the ground and I want to know what it is now, understand? Men, get a stretcher and get Hughes inside now!"  
"Y-Yes sir," Natasha spoke softly through shaking lips as she turned and made her way hurriedly to the communications tower.

Norway, Lofoten Island, December 5th 2033AD - 04:08

Fury stood at the helipad, Natasha at his side in silence as they watched two bright pinpoints of light in the sky approach. The storm promised by the clouds and thunder had finally arrived making air travel necessary but incredibly dangerous. Fury was willing to risk it though, his men were in danger, he could feel it. After reporting the nights happenings to headquarters the agreed to Fury's request of an excavation team, from the description alone it was more then enough to peak government interest. At this time any discovery, any news not related to the war would be an incredible boost to the overall morale of the country. To find anything at all during the course of this war would be beneficial, anything no matter how little, just to prove it really meant and accomplished something. Although the approval of the excavation also meant an extended stay for Fury and Natasha in the ice land of Norway. As the helicopter came it its landing sending a shower of powdery snow into the air Fury stepped forward as the drop hatch opened and the second team began to make their way out from the plane. He watched as a sliding door near the front of the chopper opened an a dull burgundy cane touched the concrete. He stopped for a moment as the sight and straightened as the excavation team dashed past him to obtain orders from Natasha.  
A short blonde man stepped out of the helicopter with the help of the pilot who held his arm. Once both feet were firmly planted on the ground the short man jerked his arm from the pilot's grip and waved his away with his cane. He was young and terribly thin apparent even with the numerous coats he wore, wire framed glasses hanging from his nose. He looked to Fury and stepped forward, speaking up loudly over the wind and blades of the chopper.  
"General Fury?!"  
"Yes, I'm Nick Fury! Are you our medic?"  
"My name is Blake, Donald Blake! I'm an archeologist and historian! I was told you found something of great interest!"


	2. Chapter 2

Thor

Chapter 2

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Norway, Lofoten Island, December 5th 2033AD - 05:14

"This way, Prof. Blake," Natasha rose her arm and motioned to the small portion of the hanger marked off with curtains and blankets as the medical zone. Pushed a heavy canvas sheet aside, Blake stepped in to see three men laid out on cots before him, each one in a catatonic state, glassy unseeing eyes staring into eternity. At the far side of the area, General Nick Fury stood at the side of the man who was struck first and hardest with the strange power of the stone. With him a young woman and two field medics spoke in silent tones and observations.

"Prof. Blake, this is Jacob Hughes. He was the first one to come into physical contact with the object," Fury spoke as Blake approached, cane tightly in hand, it clattered loudly against the cold steel floors, echoing with a thud throughout the hanger. Even with the icy wind at bay, safe within the shelter of the hanger, Blake had refused to remove even a single one of his many coats.

"How long ago was he struck?" Blake spoke in a crisp young voice, his cane raising to gently tap the arm of the man. The woman beside Fury quickly lifted a hand and slapped the cane away. Blake's gaze rose to meet the woman's as his brows furrowed. Sharp green eyes and long red locks thrown into a bun stared back at him with unblinking intensity.

"Blake, this is Jane Foster, Field Director for the Allied Nations Bureau of Disease Research and Control," Fury made his introductions to little response as Blake simply tapped his cane upon the ground once more and nodded softly.

"We've met…" Jane spoke sharply and turned her attention back to Hughes. "As far as we have been able to tell, these men have been through an incredible trauma and are now trapped within a comatose state. Their vitals are clear, nothing odd had appeared on their toxology or blood samples. This is clearly not a sickness but the result of physical trauma, but what kind, we still aren't sure. I mean, what in that stone could have caused this? And these?" Jane gently took Hughes hand and rolled it over. Seared upon the flesh were large blackened wounds. They appeared to be skin that was not only burned but utterly destroyed, reduced to hardened carbon residue and bare inner flesh. "I have never seen burns like these…"

Fury spoke up. "The others only came in contact with the stone as a brushing pass, Hughes here held onto the thing for a good minutes or more. All three have the same wounds, they seem instantaneous but not progressive,"

"I think I have seen enough. I am not here to see these men. Can I see the stone now, General?" Blake lowered his gaze from the gruesome flesh and turned to meet Fury.

Fury rose a brow before giving a soft hesitant nod, he clicked his tongue against his teeth gently before raising his arm to direct the professor. "Of course, Prof. Blake, it is still entrapped in soil for the most part, we thought it too dangerous to excavate, so we extracted it and the surrounding earth from the ground,"

"Understandable," Blake turned to Natasha, and the medics and gave a courtesy smile before bidding his adieus and following Fury out of the hanger and through the encampment. Flipping the collars of his jackets up about his neck, he stepped out into the harsh cold and wind.

Jane sighed softly and gave a soft shake of her head before lifting Hughes' arm and taking a roll of bandages from one of her assistants who began to wrap the other hand as well. Natasha gave a weary smirk and slipped her hands into her coat pockets.

"Prof. Blake, he seems rather…"

"- like a jerk?" Jane broke in, she pushed her hair from her face as she craned her neck to take a peek at the handiwork of her assistant. "Not so tightly around the wrist,"

"I was going to say, unique I suppose. Nicolas, General Fury I mean, I don't think he thinks much of him," Natasha took a place against the wall, between two beds she watched as Jane carefully wrapped the palms and wrists on Hughes tightly. "How did you two know one another?"

"Donald was once a doctor, a man who cared more about his patients then anyone I think I have ever know. I started my career working as a nurse in his practice long before the war began. We were engaged once," She sighed softly. "Then twice, then a third time, then I simply gave up and left for good,"

"Why?"

"He left his practice shortly after his father passed away. Abandoned his patients, ignored my calls. That's when his obsession with history, archeology and mythology began. He would lock himself away in his libraries for days, weeks at a time. It was as if something had changed him completely the moment his father died. So wrapped up in his research… I couldn't tolerate becoming the nuisance between him and his books,"

Meanwhile, three hundred yards away in a small storage shed at the far end of the runway Donald Blake and Nick Fury stood before the large mass of stone and earth. The young professor's eyes gleaming with astonish at the form before him. Nearly four feet in length and half as high, he assumed it must have taken three or four men to lift it from the ground. Lifting his cane, he gently poked and prodded at the encrusted earth as peddles and grains of dirt poured from it's side. From the mass of green and brown earth protruded a nearly foot long rectangular stone. A deep gray in color, it's texture was smooth and a soft shiny was cast off it's side.

"General, it may be much to ask, but can I and a few of your men spend some time exposing as much of the stone as possible? I would truly like to investigate this object with as little hindrance as possible,"

"I'll see what I can do, but as it stands right now I can't allow you to come any closer to this thing. I've already had three men become the victims of this thing, I don't need a civilian getting knocked into some freaky coma also,"

Blake chewed his lip and nodded softly before tapping the dirt from the end of his cane. "I understand… but please, General. I have to be able to work on the stone myself. How can I do any research on it without up close detailing? Contact your headquarters, anything, I must have hands on work with the artifact,"

"Again, I will see what I can do," Fury took a deep breath of the chilled air and shook his head softly. "But for now, can you tell us anything about it?"

"It is man made, I have no doubt in that. It looks like it may be a tool or weapon. Or maybe just a simple brick. It is too hard to tell from this angle. I don't think it is any kind of ordinary stone at all from this angle, it's lines look too neat, to clean. The gleam would suggest a gem, but I have never seen any gem such as this. Iron maybe, but incredibly thick,"

"What ever it is, it is powerful. Cursed or something. I have seen a lot of things in my day, Professor. But never have I seen a stone turn a man into a screaming lunatic then into a vegetable. I want to know what this is, and as soon as possible,"

"Yes, General Fury. Just give me the tools, the men I need, I will give you your answers,"

Norway, Lofoten Island, December 5th 2033AD - 14:35

Blake gave a heavy sigh and wiped sweat from his brow. It had taken nearly three hours of hard labor and tedious detailed cleaning but he finally shed all but one of his coats, it's sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The air was filled with the fine dust of frozen Norwegian earth and filled his burning lungs as he stood there in a pile of dirt. Large work gloves , he took a moment to step back, leaning heavily against the wall as he watched the two younger men chisel their way closer and closer to the stone. It had become to take form now, and Blake couldn't be more exhilarated then he was now.

"Prof. Blake?" Standing within the doorway of the small shed, Nicholas Fury buried his hands into his coat pockets and looked to the pale young doctor.

"It is quite unbelievable General Fury," Blake spoke with an awe-filled grin. "I was right, this is far from being a natural stone, but a crafted weapon,"

Fury turned his attention to the artifact and rose a scarred brow. "Its… a hammer?"

There on a raised wooden platform, still half encased in earth, it could be seen clearly now. A large mallet, it's head flat and rectangular while it's head was slightly curved and seemed to be sharpened to a razors edge. Half sticking out of the stone was its handle, nearly two feet long and shimmering in the light of the swaying bulb over head.

"More then that General Fury, I believe this could be much more. Much, much more," Blake spoke with the shining eyes of a child with a new toy, he took his cane in his hand and stood for himself, leaving the wall, the aged shed creaked softly.

"Oh?"

"This… General Fury. This is why I begging SHEILD so desperately to send me here. The culmination of years of research. This is what convinced the Allied Nations to send me,"

"For a hammer? You were here to lift continental morale, are you telling me this is something more important?" Fury's curiosity had now come to a peak as his hands left his pockets to cross before his chest.

"An archeological discovery is what I promised to them, yes. But also something more, they had to allow me to come to Norway once I revealed to them what this mallet may be,"

"Which is?"

"The ultimate weapon, General Fury. It may look like an ordinary war hammer, but if I am right. You and I, and your men are standing before the single most powerful weapon in all of creation,"

Fury jerked a thumb and smirked. "Stop feeding my bullshit here Blake. You're telling me this thing is a W.O.M.D?"

Blake shook his head. "No, this is more then destruction, this is creation. Life, death, genesis and Armageddon all in one, General Fury?"

"What the hell are you talking about, son?"

Blake looked up to Fury's wrinkled, world weary eyes with undying enthusiasm as excitement. A knowing smirk upon the younger man's face.

"General Fury, have you ever heard the legend of the Mjolnir?"

"The Mole-er?" Fury said with a lackluster tone and tore his eye from Blake's gaze, returning it to the glimmering weapon.

"Mjolnir, General. The all mighty hammer of the Aesir Gods. The mallet of Thor, god of thunder, lighting and storms,"

"Thor's hammer? Here in this frozen wasteland that was once the Lofoten Archipelago?"

"Yes, sir," Blake's brows rose with excitement as he gave a forceful nod and tapped his cane against the ground once.

Fury gave a sigh and lifted from his pocket a small cell-phone sized radio, pressing a button upon it's side, static quickly gave way to the voice of the Black Widow. "Natasha, get SHEILD HQ on the horn, they sent us a nut. Hear me?"

Blake's eyes somehow managed to widen even further as his jaw dropped and a dark force brought his world to a crashing end.

"What sir?" Natasha's honey voice spoke gently as they could hear Jane Foster and her assistant's speaking in the background.

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Norway, Lofoten Island, December 5th 2033AD - 21:01

Sitting silently in the small space within the control tower sectioned off to be used as a sleeping quarters for Blake, his back rested against the call steel wall while his good leg sat bent before his, his left stretched out before him on the thin, uncomfortable cot. He gave a weary sigh as he pressed his chin into the heavy collar of his coat and listened to Fury's enraged ranting over the radio to SHEILD.

"First you send me a civilian archeologist without my prior knowledge, then all the sudden I find out he is a freaking lunatic! Ranting on about Norwegian Gods and magic hammers and fairy tales! Don't you people background check these men?"

Blake sighed softly and slid slowly down the wall till his head made contact with the hardened pillow against his back. Why did he have to go and say that. Of course it would be hard for Fury, a man of war, real world conflict and science to believe or even listen to his tale of mythic heroes and enchanted hammers. If only he had proof, but now with the artifact locked away on the other side of the air field there was little chance of him ever earning a chance to prove his theory correct, that Fury and his men had indeed accidentally uncovered the might Mjolnir.

It was so simple in Blake's mind, why could the General not see it. The sickness, it was the blessing all knowing Odin had placed upon his son's weapon to ensure no one were able to disarm the god of thunder. Anyone who knew anything should know not to dare try and take Thor's hammer, for Mjolnir and Mjolnir alone chooses it's wielder.

Donald had no idea when it was that he made the transition from awake to asleep, it happened so subtly… his breathe slow and steady.

In his dream, he was out there in the cold wind and snow, the present day Lofoten… the picture of Viking Hell, Niflheim… a land of mist and cold and darkness. So powerful was the reign of ice upon this world that no fire could ever be lit. Forever the dead would walk the planes of Niflheim in search of shelter, of warmth.

His father was with him, old and sickly. Dying… the hissing of his oxygen heavy in the air as his leathered face, beat red from the cold, turned to face his son. He looked just as he did the night he had passed away… "Donald, my son… these are your people. Our people, our heritage,"

"Dad?" He looked to his father with confusion as he shook his head softly and pulled his coat closed against the wind. "This isn't Niflheim, Dad. We are in Norway, or what is left of it,"

Blake looked out over the ocean of snow and ice and felt a great depression in his heart. "We did this Dad, our real people, and our weapons,"

"And we will make things right again, Donald… all we need is the Mjolnir," His father smiled softly.

"Didn't you hear General Fury? There is no Mjolnir, no Thor, no Aesir. It's just a bunch of stories, Dad. That's all… I'm crazy for thinking they may actually exist,"

His father was gone, vanished into darkness and cold of the unforgiving plane of existence known only as Niflheim. Donald suddenly felt alone, so very alone, and cold. His arms rose as he hugged himself and futilely rubbed warmth into his shoulders and palms.

Suddenly before him stood a white horse whose mane flowed like an ivory flame. An old man, ancient in fact, older then time itself sat upon the stallion. Garbed in beautiful white furs and robes, silver hair fell over the man's shoulders and joined with a beard that fell to his chest. His face wrinkled and weathered brooded with the knowledge of all things past, present, and future. His right eyelids closed and sunken in as a raven sat upon his shoulder. As the feet of the stallion, a small wolf pup circled it's hooves.

"Donar," The old man spoke in a voice like thunder, it's echo shaking the universe itself.

"No, Donald… my name is Donald Blake," He spoke in a quivering voice as he felt a unearthly cold aura from the man, a freezing wind against his neck.

"Donar minn sonur," The man said once more as the horse took a small stride forward.

"I'm sorry, I'm not this Donar person… My name is Don… Donald," Blake took a half step back as the horse approached and the old man lifted an arm.

"Asgard bíða eftir þú minn sonur,"

"A-Asgard? Who are you old man?" Blake called out as he reached for his cane, yet finding nothing there at his side but a collection of small frozen stones.

"Fylgja the starf af Mjolnir. Láta neitun tilvera stjórna minn sonur,"

"Minn sonur? My son? I'm not your son. My father, he is dead. He was just here, but he is dead… Donar, he is your son?"

"Þú ert minn sonur,"

"No… I'm sorry, I am not your son," Blake quivered as he slowly picked up a stone from the ground and rolled it subtly between his fingers. His eyes never leaving the dead and hallowed eye of the old man.

"Fara , Gefa. Krafa Mjolnir , spara veröld frá Ragnarok!" The old man spoke with vigor now as he shook his fist in commands. The white stallion rising to it's hind legs, kicked through the air as lightly crashed through the black sky.

Blake fell to the ground as he cried out his fear, his hands trembling from the sight as his lips quivered. Scurrying away on his hands and knees he ran from the old man. "Who! Who the hell are you?!"

As thunder cracked the sky, the old man's brows furrowed and his rose his hand to the sky. "Woden, Guð af Gálgi , Faðir Af Allur , Fara , Hlýða Minn Vilja!"

Blake awake with a start and a cold sweat running down his spine. Icy cold air filled his lungs before he released he stood in darkness. The wind howling about him as the chains upon the storage shed room chattered in the night wind… if it was night. The sun would not again raise for nearly a month, he could only guess at the time. All he knew was that he was alone, there before the shed which held the object of his desires. The one object that he felt could mean the different between live and death for all man kind… if only he could prove what he believed it to be. Raising his hand slowly to the door the crowing of a raven shook him as a small black bird sat atop the slightly pitched roof.

On closer inspection he would then see the chains upon the door had not be locked together and hung not only freely but loosely from the door's handle. With a subtle look about and a lick of his lips, Blake as silently as he could, lifted the chains from the door and slid it open…


End file.
